


The Pharaoh's Curse

by fuckyatta



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ASP Pharah, Corsair Ana Amari, F/F, Incest, Mentioned Reaper76, Mildly Dubious Consent, Parent/Child Incest, Trans Female Character, possessed pharah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyatta/pseuds/fuckyatta
Summary: The brave pirate captain Ana Amari raids an unmarked pyramid in search of unknown riches. Instead, she gets more than she bargained for.





	The Pharaoh's Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure you have read the tags before venturing further. 
> 
> Criticism is welcome on the writing itself but not the ship.

Scattered sand and dust crackle beneath her feet, the walls hushing her as her fingers glide over decades old brick. The faint flickering ember of her lamp guides her way through the oppressive darkness ahead of her. Besides the noises she herself makes, the suffocatingly cramped hallway is eerily quiet, makes her all too aware of her heartbeat. Yet through all of this, Ana Amari remains calm. This is not the first tomb she has robbed, nor shall it be her last.

Despite being an infamous pirate captain, she worked alone during her tomb raids. A crew had been proven too cowardice for her expeditions; scouring for hidden treasure and sailing the seas deemed far less treacherous. She had attempted that life before, when she abandoned her duties as Pharaoh and declared a traitor to her people. But her travels, no matter how far, always lead back to Egypt. Sea life had been too easy on her, she sought for something more, to feel young again. Nothing quite suited that like the thick dry air surrounding her, or the hint of danger like that of robbing sacred pyramids.

No one pyramid was the same. Without a crew by her side, Ana was left with but her wit and will to guide her. It had been all she needed, the task proved natural to her, often requiring minimal medical treatment after she returns to her ship, rarely something she herself couldn't patch up. That hadn't always been the case, punished for reckless behavior earned her a lost eye, since then she has been cautious, and for it been rewarded. Her bounty of stolen gold and treasures was known well past the borders of Egypt, and sought after by many thieves alike. Perhaps having a crew then, proves it's usefulness. While she is adding to the pile, her crew is trusted to protect it. 

She feels herself nearing the center of the pyramid. The walls whisper forgotten tales of dread and resentment, common with leaders who met their demise too soon. Ana feels suspicion, as well. This raid felt far too easy. It had been unmarked, no sign of whom was laid to rest. The chances that it was completely empty were high, for she hadn't run into any traps since entering. Still, she marches onwards, best to leave a pyramid empty handed than not try at all. 

Then, the hallway widens, making room for grand pillars and archways. It becomes clear, then, who this pyramid was meant for. Engraved in the winding pillars speak of the life of Ana Amari herself. It tells tale of her extravagant life style, her riches and lavish temples. Mentions her two foreign friends, Gabriel and Jack, travelers from Europe seeking trade who instead found friendship with the Pharaoh, only to meet the demise of a gruesome war that left Jack heartbroken and Gabriel no longer the man he once was. The memory is somber, but along with it an ache to return to them. It is too late for that, she knows this. 

The further she goes the closer she nears the center of the pyramid. Now, torches hang from the walls, giving ample light, no longer needing her lamp. The pillars go on to illustrate the relationship of her and her daughter, Fareeha. It leaves Ana feeling an anxious, sad guilt. Her relations with Fareeha were known, and the connotation was common between royal blood, and yet it does not help Ana feel any better. 

Men bore Ana, as did women. Her suitors often groveled at her feet, bestowing gifts upon her that never did interest her. They never left an impression on her, and more than likely would forget about them only moments later. Her daughter, though, had been beautiful, independent and a rebel. She stood her ground and fought her mother's rules on a number of a occasions, and begged to be apart of a war her mother would never allow. Though Ana had a keen eye, she could recognize the passing glances and stares her daughter gave her. Nor could she be fooled into believing her daughter when she denied watching Ana when she'd have her parties, that would no doubt end in sex with those who came to the event. All had been flings, never to happen again but Ana could feel the jealousy Fareeha would try to hide the day after. 

Even so, she should never have initiated such a lifestyle with Fareeha. It felt dirty, to manipulate someone just barely an adult, to use their attraction to her advantage. Fareeha became infatuated, and she was very public with her affections, stubborning whining for kisses and hands wandering dangerous territory during outing and diplomatic meetings. Ana would allow it time and time again, unaware of her selfishness. Even in sex, Fareeha looked up upon her mother in complete adoration, exploring her mother's body as if it had been the first time each time. 

It all happens so fast. It's rough, messy, dirty. And then Ana leaves without a trace. She doesn't dare tell her daughter where she's headed, at the time she didn't know herself. Ana hadn't known what happened after she left, didn't want to know, and it appears that she won't be given an answer. The pillars story stops short, after her disappearance it ends abruptly. She does not have time to entertain the possibilities, sure to be losing daylight fast outside. 

Once the hieroglyphics end, as does the hallway. The final archway is watched over by two imposing statues. They loom over her, keen hawk eyes bear down on her and grip on their staffs strong, protecting the precious valuables that lay beyond them. Ana takes great care walking by them, she swears their eyes follow her, though could simply be a trick of the light. Within, the walls are illuminated brightly, sandstone bricks laced in gold. In the room stands only a table holding heirlooms and simple treasures. Though in the middle lay a sarcophagus, lined in ruby and sapphire and gold, depicting the pharaoh within. The wall behind it is indented outwards, and on it the Amari symbol: the eye of Horus, surrounded by a pair of outstretched hawk wings. 

It all feels strange. Ana feels as though she's trespassing in a tomb meant for her. The sarcophagus' face resembles her own, and she does not think to open it. Instead, she is most interested on what lies atop the table. It is a gift she received from her European colleagues, a rifle brought overseas, hand crafted specifically for her. It only felt right to take back what was rightfully hers. With careful hands she lifts the rifle. It is caked with a thick layer of dust, and bringing it to her mouth she blows it away. It billows outwards, revealing its bright blue stock and worn leather strap. 

She only has a moment to enjoy her reunion. A series of clicks and pulls echo and shake the chamber. She heads for the entrance, but both statues have extending their arms out to the side, staffs crossing and blocking her from leaving. Their heads are downturned, sharp eyes watching her. No doubt walking by would result in her death, and she must think her next decision wisely. 

The grating of two stones sliding against each other force her out of her thoughts. She whips her head around, watching in disbelief as the sarcophagus slowly opens itself. It had only been a wise tale created by foreigners visiting the country to scare one another. No one really believed in a mummy's curse. It was outlandish, yet Ana, even for a moment, truly fears that what will come out of that sarcophagus will be none other than a mummy, hellbent on killing her. It doesn't even cross her mind on who could be behind all the wrappings. 

But what comes out is no mummy. The sarcophagus lid lands to the ground with a deafening clap. First to emerge is an armored hand, gilded with gold. Then, as comical as it would have been despite the circumstances, the dead Pharoah arises stiffly, just midsection and above. Whom it is leaves Ana lightheaded. Her daughter, a splitting image of when she last saw her. Beautiful, young, strong. Her inky black hair moves with her, jostles the beads in her hair that click together. She is dressed in warriors armor, though slight modifications, primarily the wings adorned on her back. Her eyes adjust to the light, leaving them both in silence. Ana wouldn't know what to say to begin with. 

Once Fareeha makes sense of her surroundings, instantly she is made aware of the intruder. For a moment she shows rage, subtle but for the fire burning bright in her dark eyes. Then, it is gone, replaced with elation at the realization of who it is. Fareeha stands, steps out of her sarcophagus as thought she was not dead nearly seconds before. Ana slings the rifle behind her back before going to meet her daughter halfway. 

Fareeha lifts her mother into her arms, hugging her tight, making a show of spinning them around. She's laughing, genuine and full of so much joy it becomes contagious, and has Ana laughing along with her. It gets cut off when Fareeha's lips press to hers. She feels warm, comfortable, normal, and It has Ana believing that perhaps Fareeha wasn't dead, even for the moment. Before it becomes something more, Fareeha breaks away, gently setting her down and smiling down at her mother with that same looks she did all those years ago. 

Ana smiles back up at her, lifting an arm to cup her daughter's cheek. "When did you get so tall?"

Just the simple question has Fareeha choking up, hiding it with her laughter. An armored thumb grazes at Ana's eyepatch, and a million questions race through the young Amari's mind, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is her mother is here, with her. "Mother, I missed you. Where have you been?"

Ana shakes her head, ushering Fareeha to lean forward for a quick kiss, diverting her question. "It does not matter where I've been. Why are you here? What has happened since my absence?"

Fareeha's expression saddens, though not do to her mother's avoidance. "I had to step up as pharaoh. My people were restless after you left, anxious that I might do the same." She speaks softly, deliberately. Her strong hands graze down Ana's neck to fiddle with the collar of her shirt. "Then Gabriel, he came back. He demanded to see Jack, and when I refused he came back only days later, but with an army. He slaughtered hundreds. We tried to fight back but I wasn't so lucky. I guess you're worries about me joining war was true." She laughs, though this time grim. 

Guilt eats away at Ana's heart. Had she never left...it's too late to think what ifs. Hooking her arms around Fareeha's neck, she embraces her daughter. "I'm so sorry habibti. I should have been there for you, for our people."

Fareeha returns the gesture, resting her cheek atop her mother's head. "I forgive you. You're here now."

For a long while the two bask in the feeling of one another. It had been only so long, yet Fareeha has changed so much. Her embrace feels stronger, and Ana feels safe in her arms. It reminds her of the nights they'd spend together, Fareeha holding onto her after sex and the morning after with Fareeha begging her not to leave the bed. It had been hard to deny her wishes when she looked up at her with those beautiful tantalizing dark eyes. That proves to still be the case, as Fareeha's lifts her chin, forcing her to look upwards at her. Then she's leaning down, capturing her lips with hers, and Ana kisses her back. 

It doesn't take long for Fareeha to get needy, pressing her tongue against Ana's lips, asking for access. Ana grants it, Fareeha's tongue hot in her mouth as it fights with hers. Fareeha whines, the noise swallowed up between the two. Breaking the kiss with a playful parting bite to Ana's bottom lip, Fareeha begins walking forward, causing Ana to walk backwards until she bumps into the table. 

Their breath intermingle, and Fareeha continues their kiss. Ana makes a noise of surprise when Fareeha lifts her up by the rear, setting her down on top of the table. The same whirs and clicks Ana heard from before rumble from behind the walls, and the statues previously blocking the chamber's entrance resume their previous position, opening the hallway. Fareeha takes note of this, breaking away from Ana and staring at the open hallway, breath coming out in hot puffs.

When she looks back to Ana, she could not look more guilty. Eye wide and posture stiff. It's then that Fareeha notices the leather strap around Ana's frame. She grazes the stitches with her fingers, brows furrows in confusion. "Mother, why are you here?"

Ana considers her answer carefully. "To see you, habibti." 

Fareeha stares at her, hand gripping the leather strap. "You could be seeing me in our temple if you never left. Why are you here?" She tugs firmly at the strap, shaking Ana. Confusion has turned to betrayal, and Fareeha struggles keeping her composure. "You are dressed like a dirty thief. Is that what you've become? Have you intruded upon my resting place to only grant me more misery? To steal all I have left to remember you by?"

There is no coming back from this, and Ana reacts. She whips out a small pistol, pressing its barrel to Fareeha's neck before pulling the trigger. A sleep dart sticks out from Fareeha's neck, though it does not effect her. Instead her eyes go wide with rage, and her facade begins to crumble. 

Beautiful bronze skin pales drastically to that of a sickly gray. The gold of her armor rusts and flakes, peeling back to reveal a deep purple, purple haze leaking from the collar. Eyes Ana once loved turn stark white. A comforting strength becomes an unrelenting force as Ana is thrusted forward, met face to face with what once was her daughter. 

"Do you think of me as some kind of fool? That I would not see through your ruse?" Fareeha's voice echoes throughout the chamber, the ground shaking beneath their feet. 

"Fareeha-"

"I have not given you permission to speak, mortal!" Fareeha turns Ana around, slamming her front on top of the table. Ana hisses in pain, a clawed metal hand gripping at her hair, digging her cheek into the cold sandstone beneath. 

Then Fareeha's cold body presses against Ana's. Her breath tickles at her ear. "You've been gone so long, so much missed time. Don't you think it's time we catch up?" Fareeha's voice crackles in her throat, not one thing of her resembling her former self. "I think I know how you can make it up to me." 

Something behind Ana clicks, but what she is unsure of. Then a hand grabs at her slacks and yanks them downwards and Ana's eye goes wide. She struggled against the form atop her, panic rushing through her. "Fareeha-!" 

The gravely voice shushes her, but still she yelps when a cold, clawed metal finger prods at her cunt. She goes frigid instantly, her breathing ragged. Despite the previous manhandling the digit moves slow, gliding across her slick folds once, twice, before pressing at her entrance with a gentle push. Each ribbed knuckle has Ana shaking as it pushes further.

"You shall be my slave, and allow me to do with you body whatever I please. And in return, I spare your life." Fareeha coos, kissing the shell of her ear. 

The source of the click becomes evident when Fareeha's prominent erection presses against her ass. She barely has time to register the feeling entirely when another finger pushes into her. Slowly, they pump into her, delicately curling to rub her sensitive front wall that has Ana moaning and legs shaking. 

The response has Fareeha chuckling. "You always had a hard time denying me of what I want. I assume this will be no different." Ana can feel her smile against her skin as Fareeha nuzzles her nose to Ana's neck. 

Fareeha is patient with scissoring her mother open. Slick drips down her armored fingers with each slow thrust. It is a drastic difference from her behavior just moments ago, reflects the daughter Ana knew. She hardly has time to think of her past when the two fingers leave her cunt. She forces down a whine, not wanting to appear desperate. They opt to pet the course hair of her mound instead, clawed tips toying with the hood of her clitoris, eliciting small jolts of pleasure that have her hips stuttering. 

The hand previously in her hair grips her ass, fingertips digging into her flesh and spreading her open. She leans up, alleviating the pressure atop of Ana's back. She thrusts her cock between Ana's wet folds, head nudging at her clit, and this time Ana cannot control the whine that escapes her. Fareeha repeats the action a few more times, spreading her slick across her hard cock. She hums her approval. "I'm going to fuck you, and then I'm going to come inside you." Before the rough change to Fareeha's voice frightened Ana, now it leaves her reeling. "I've always wanted to, but you would never let me. Now you follow my orders." 

Fareeha takes a brief moment to line herself up, before pressing her cock inside her mother. She goes slow, despite previous ministrations, she was large, and it had always been trouble when they fucked. So she takes her time, slow, shallow thrusts until the head manages its way through. Once it does she stops, waits for the tremors running up Ana's back ceases and her breathing lessens. Ana is shocked that it is only when she nods her head does Fareeha continue. 

With one, smooth push, she is up to the hilt, hips flush with Ana's. Ana is thankful for the cold stone beneath her, as it is her only relief from the heat of her skin, sweat only providing minimal comfort as it runs down her face and neck. Fareeha does not move, revels in the throbbing walls against her pulsing cock. 

Ana though, can hardly stay still, hips thrusting back no matter how minute to ease the burning need. It is so unlike herself, typically the one emanating patience and self restraint, especially during her time with Fareeha years prior. Now it is Fareeha who boasts her confidence, and Ana is damn sure some fucked up curse made Fareeha's cock bigger, just to torture her. 

Finally, Fareeha relents. Removing both hands from Ana, she instead grips the end of the table, fully withdrawing herself, leaving her cock head to tease at her mother's entrance, before slamming back into her. The force causes the table to shake, and to practically knock the wind out of Ana. It leaves her gasping for breath, and she hardly has time to recover when Fareeha does it again, though now opting for smaller thrusts, not wanting to leave the heat of her mother's cunt. Fareeha's back bows, and with each thrust she's huffing and grunting her exertion. 

The clothes Ana still wears feels too much against her hot skin, and she is sure Fareeha feels the same under her sweltering suit of armor. The sandstone beneath Fareeha's hands crack and crumble, unable to withstand her grip. Ana can't get a grip on the table, she makes feeble attempts but she can hardly control the way her whole body shakes with each passing thrust, instead all she can accomplish are measly thrusts back. While Ana can hear each stubborn breath Fareeha puffs out, she can hardly hear her own voice, cancelled out by the slick slapping of skin that bounces off the walls. 

Ana comes first, cannot even manage to say a warning before her walls are convulsing and she's practically thrashing atop the tabletop. Her cunt flutters and milks Fareeha's cock, begging for her to follow suit, which she does. Her thrusts slow and shorten till all that's available is to rut against her, buried deep within her mother as she comes with a groan, whole body tensing. Her come leaves Ana feeling undeniably full, the thick liquid dripping out from her cunt and making a mess of her thighs. 

Still seated fully within her, and cock still achingly hard, Fareeha laughs, brushing back Ana's now messy loose braid aside so she may kiss at her nape. Slowly, slowly, she begins to thrust once more, Ana moaning and bucking back in earnest. It has Fareeha smiling, pleased. 'Oh yes, we'll have so much fun together, mother."

**Author's Note:**

> My non incest fuck followers: Fuckyatta, please for the love of god update Menagerie, we're starving
> 
> Me, Fuckyatta: mmm amaricest yummy


End file.
